The Dawn of a New Era
by ANARCHY RULES
Summary: After The Fall of Los Angeles, the existence of monsters and magic has now been revealed to the whole world. While everything changes around her, Dawn struggles to find a place for herself in this new world after the death of her best friend. However, unlike her sister, she wants to do this by working from within the system as a consultant for the CIA regarding magic and monsters.
1. Too Tired to Sleep

**This is a successor to my previous story "Heart and Eye" however you don't have to have read it to enjoy this. Basically all that you really need to know is that Buffy and the rest of the Scoobies joined Angel's team during the Fall at the end of Angel Season 5. In the fight, Giles lost his left arm, Willow was magically injured and left a paraplegic and Xander was killed.**

**Also Fred is still alive due to the combined actions of Xander and Willow though with some of Illyria's abilities and married to Wesley and they recently had a baby girl named Alex. Dawn is her Godmother and is currently living with them.**

**Now that the Fall is over, the whole world now knows about magic and vampires and demons.**

**I will go into detail about these things so if you are a new reader, don't worry, it should all start to make sense after a few chapters.**

**It is the year 2006 or nineteen months after The Fall.**

* * *

**Chapter One: Too Tired to Sleep**

… _and after almost two years since what is now referred to as _The Fall_ it would appear that a sense of normality is now finally returning to Los Angeles. With the final reconstruction efforts well underway, Governor Schwarzenegger had this to say on the matter:_

"_While we cannot underestimate the threats that we face in this new world, at the same time, we cannot and _will not_ underestimate the might and resilience of the people of California's largest city. Los Angeles shall remain strong in the face of adversity!"_

_In other news Father Samuel Taylor of _Our Lady of the Angels_ once again denounced the possibility of non-humans being permitted to own land or hold office_

"_It's very clear in the Bible that the Lord says that the servants of Satan must__―__"_

SSSSK

"Like I want to hear what that moron has to say anyhow," Dawn Summers muttered tiredly as she turned off the television depriving the living room of its only source of light and plunging it into gloomy darkness. Even after nineteen months one would still find news reports or talk shows featuring The Fall as the topic of discussion. Dawn couldn't understand why everyone wanted to keep bringing it up; she would rather forget it all.

Even after all this time she could still remember what it had been like during the long weeks Los Angeles had plummeted into the depths of Hell. Fire streaking across the sky, monsters in the streets, the sound of screaming filling the air, Xander… _No_, she was not going to think about Xander, not today. She glanced over at the clock on top of the television that read, _2:04._ "God," she groaned, "I should really sleep." However she knew that the odds of her getting sleep were about as likely Willow taking up being a professional rapper. "Ah, screw it," she muttered, rising from the couch and feeling her way through the gloom until she had found the kitchen light switch. She rummaged about through the pantry and made herself a mug of hot chocolate.

"Can't sleep?" Dawn turned around to see a small, fair skinned woman with long brown hair and three horizontal scars across her face. Winifred Burkle to her parents and and any legal people, just Fred to everybody else.

"Nah," she replied, "Too tired."

"I can understand if you're nervous," the older woman said while pouring herself a drink, "You do have a big day ahead of you with the new job and all."

"I'm not nervous," Dawn said quickly, "After everything we've been through I seriously doubt that being a consultant is going to be too much of a hassle."

"So what's keeping you up?"

"I don't know," Dawn said, shaking her head slightly, "Just… I don't know, I was just thinking about all the stuff that happened. I don't know why people want to keep bringing it up. It's bad enough that we had to live through it once but now it's like people want to go through it all over again."

"It's a big change," Fred said gently, "People are still getting used to it. Not everybody grew up with this stuff like you. When I found out about all of this it almost drove me insane. Just give them some time."

"Do you ever think about him?" Dawn asked suddenly. Fred did not have to ask who _he_ was.

"I named my daughter after him," Fred said seriously, "Of course I think about him. Is that what's keeping you up?"

"No," Dawn responded instantly before immediately backpedalling, "Maybe, I don't know."

"It's the first I've heard you mention him in a while," Fred remarked, "What brought this on?"

"I guess it's all the renewed interest in what happened," she answered, "Did you know that Kennedy is even writing a _book?_"

"Willow mentioned it last time we spoke."

"Why the _Hell_ would she want to do that?" Fred took a sip of chocolate.

"Everyone has their ways of dealing with it and putting it down," she said, "Maybe she thinks that she can do that by… well, _literally_ putting it down. Making it real and tangible. Then she can move on." She drained the rest of the mug. "You should really try to get some sleep, Dawn," she said in an almost maternal tone of voice, "Even if it's only four hours or so and definitely _not_ on the couch, you have a perfectly good bedroom." Dawn rolled her eyes but the smile peeking at the edge of her lips removed the gesture of any disrespect.

"Yes, _mother,_" she deadpanned. Sighing in resignation, she allowed Fred to lead her to her bedroom. Once she had laid down on the bed, Fred pulled the covers over the younger girl.

"You know I'm proud of you," she said, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "You're taking a really big step today."

"Did you do this for Harmony or Xander?" Dawn asked drowsily.

"Yeah," Fred answered softly, "They were family, just like you."

As her eyes started to close her mind drifted back to that terrible day when the city finally escaped the clutches of Hell. Los Angeles might have endured but it paid a very high price.

"_It's actually not all that bad, all the people I love most are here."_

The price was too high.

**~o~O~o~**

While a cursory glance at its website will tell you that most CIA officers work in Washington, DC, after the events during The Fall, the agency thought it best to set up a new office in Los Angeles for the newly established Directorate of Magic and Supernatural Threats. It failed to appear on the webpage because, like all government agencies, entire ages would pass before the CIA would finally get around to updating its home page.

As Dawn climbed the exterior concrete stairs and approached the entrance she felt a momentary flutter of trepidation. Was she doing the right thing? After all, her past experiences with the governments more _clandestine_ operations had never been positive. She was still bitter over the Initiative. While she was very young at the time she still remembered what they did to Riley, drugging him so that he was nothing more than a rabid animal and then abandoning him. She could still picture him huddled in the bombed out ruins of Sunnydale High School.

She paused at the landing, mere feet from the automatic doors that were waiting to slide open and took several deep breaths as she weighed up her options. If she wanted to, she could simply turn around and leave. They couldn't do anything to her, after all, she was the little sister of Buffy Summers. She frowned at the thought as she realised that she wanted to be more than that.

"_They'll never know how tough it is, Dawnie, to be the one who isn't chosen. To live so near to the spotlight and never step in it. But I know. I see more than anybody realizes because nobody's watching me. I saw you last night. I see you working here today. You're not special. You're extraordinary."_

"I can do this," she whispered to herself, striding forward with mostly genuine confidence and passing through the threshold, entering the building. She passed through the reasonably busy lobby and approached the receptionist's desk. "Hi," she said, "I'm Dawn Summers, I'm here to start work as a consultant."

"Uh-huh," said the receptionist in a bored tone of voice as he glanced at his computer screen, "Crane mentioned something about a newbie but he said nothin' about you being a baby."

"I'm twenty," she said coolly, "Now can you please tell me where to go."

"Take the elevator to the third floor," he said dismissively, not even looking at her, "and go to Room 3.04. You'll find Mister Crane there and I'm sure he'll know what you're supposed to do."

"Thank you," she said curtly before walking past him and to the elevator.

_Off to a great start,_ she thought sarcastically.

**~o~O~o~**

_Knock, knock._

Marcus Crane looked up from his work and at the source of the noise.

_Must be her._

"Come in," he called out. The door opened to reveal a rather nervous looking young woman. The first thing he noticed about her was that she was clinging to the oversized leather jacket she was wearing like it was a security blanket. "Dawn Summers?" he asked to which she silently nodded. He inwardly sighed, _it's going to be one of those._ "There is an element of verbal communication in this job," he said causing her to flush slightly.

"Yes, I'm Dawn," she said, mostly hiding her nerves, "I was told to come to your office."

"Yes, that's right," he confirmed, "Today is essentially Orientation Day, I'm going to help you get acclimated but after that you are expected to be self-sufficient. We will _not_ be picking up after you, should this be a problem there's the door."

"I fought at Sunnydale and during The Fall," she said firmly but without any hint of boasting, "I think that I can manage." _That's more like it._

"Good girl," he praised, "However I _am_ going to hold you that."

* * *

**~o~O~o~**

**Please review and let me know what you think. I'll try to update as soon as possible.**


	2. Damaged Girl

**Chapter Two: Damaged Girl**

_**Two Weeks Ago**_

_**9pm**_

Dawn cried.

Fred had taken Wesley and Alex to stay at her parents' farm for half the week leaving Dawn to her own devices. She honestly didn't know how they did it, how _any_ of them did it. How did they put the past behind them and just move on with their lives? Maybe it was because most of them had someone else. Fred had Wesley and Alex, Buffy had Spike, Willow had Kennedy… Hell, even _Angel _was still sort of, kind of seeing the werewolf Nina.

Dawn did not have anyone in that sense, as her boyfriend had left Los Angeles the month before. Though, while she was upset to see him go that wasn't why she was crying. She just felt so… _lost_. It had been almost nineteen months since The Fall, nearly two whole years and she still did not know how to move on from what had happened. She still sometimes woke up screaming, saturated in sweat as she remembered being the prisoner of the Vampire King. She could still feel the roughness of his hands as they roamed about her body, fondling her, _dominating_ her. He had laughed and smiled in a way that promised he was going to make her his. She remembered how she wanted to throw up after the way he leered at her. She could still hear the sound of her bones breaking as he shattered her leg when she tried to fight back. She could still see Xander tackling him away from her, fighting off the monster until his heart…

She had held his hand as he started to choke on his own blood, completely useless. Somehow _he_ was the one who comforted her, weakly wiping away her tears with his free hand.

"_It's actually not so bad,"_ he had said, _"All the people I love the most are here."_

And then he…

So now she was curled up on the sofa, her face buried in the armrest, struggling and failing to hold back her tears.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

She looked up and frowned. Who could that be? Wesley and Fred were not due back for another two days and she didn't know who else would call at this hour. She got up and walked over to the door. "Who is it?" she called, leaving it shut for the moment.

"I'm Agent Rigby of the CIA," the visitor called back, "Is this the residence of Dawn Summers?" Dawn quickly rubbed away her tears with a hand before she opened the door to reveal a stern looking blonde woman wearing a suit. "Dawn Summers?" she asked. Dawn nodded.

"Yes," she said slowly, "What can I do for you?"

"May I come in?" Rigby asked. Dawn said yes and led her into the living room.

"Sorry about the mess," she said rather insincerely, "The maid hasn't been in. Now what does the CIA want with me at 9 o'clock at night? If you want my sister she's not even in the country." Rigby shook her head.

"I'm here to see you," she said firmly, "You helped the LAPD with that vampire last month, am I correct?"

"Yeah," Dawn confirmed, "What of it?"

"You've also assisted them on a number of other cases that could be considered relating to the Supernatural," Rigby continued, "Your name has been mentioned in various channels and has eventually made its way to us."

"And…?" Dawn asked, not really sure where this was going.

"Due to the events over the past two years the Agency is about to undergo the largest overhaul in its existence," she explained, "And we would like to hire you as a consultant for matters and case that our agents are simply not trained in. Should you accept you would receive a monthly stipend of seven and a half thousand dollars as well as provided training in advanced combat and other areas of interest." The last part caught Dawn's attention. While she was certainly no slouch when it came to fighting, her sister had gone out of her way to ensure that she never did anything that she considered too dangerous. The CIA could teach her all sorts of things that her sister would have never allowed. She could really do some good with those resources. She could become a real force to be reckoned with.

"I'm in," she said simply.

**~o~O~o~**

_**The Present Day**_

Agent Marcus Crane was a man who looked to be around his mid to late thirties. He had black hair, brown skin and grey eyes. He was not overly tall but there was still a presence about him that made Dawn feel like he was towering over her. She also noticed that he was wearing a wedding ring.

While she studied him, he studied her. While he knew about her background, if he was being completely honest with himself, he was not all that impressed. All he could see was a nervous young girl who had seen some bad things in her life and who wanted to pretend that it hadn't affected her.

"Well, Miss Summers," he said, rising from behind his desk and walking around it towards her, "I understand that this is not your first exposure to this element of the government. From my understanding you were involved with the Initiative, am I correct?"

"No," she answered, "Well… _yes._ Sort of. My sister was temporarily affiliated with them back in 2000. I was a just a kid at the time, any interaction that I had with them was incidental at best and non-existent at most." _Was?_ He thought with amusement, _you still are a kid._

"What do you know about the CIA?" he asked. She shrugged.

"Only what I've read," she replied, "That it succeeded the OSS in 1947 to coordinate espionage activities against the Axis powers. More recently its primary goals are counterterrorism and counter intelligence."

"Good girl," he said sardonically, "Someone can use Google. What else?" Dawn frowned.

"Actually," she began, "That was something that I wanted to ask. The CIA is supposed to exclusively focus on _external_ threats. The internal stuff is supposed to be the jurisdiction of the FBI and NSA, isn't it? They're the ones that spy on its _own_ citizens rather than other countries"

"The NSA does _not_ spy on American citizens," he said sharply. She raised a single eyebrow at him. "… _officially,_" he added somewhat lamely. He chuckled slightly, his impression of the girl improving slightly. "Anyway," he said quickly, "You are right, up until now, the CIA has usually been more concerned with what was occurring internationally as opposed to nationally but after the events of the past five years from the attacks on the World Trade Centre to the Fall of Los Angeles, President Bush, the Secretary of Defence and the Secretary of Homeland security decided that there needs to be a complete overhaul of all governmental bodies related to defence and espionage in order to make them more compatible with one another. There's even talk of merging elements of the Agency with the FBI and I'm sure that you can imagine how well that's gone down on _both_ sides. Since the CIA has the biggest budget, we're the lucky bastards who get the overhaul first. We're now supposed to use a portion of our resources to deal with domestic threats brought about by the sudden reveal of monsters and magic. Personally I think that this is stupid but you will soon learn that you're going to get a whole lot of orders that you disagree with. Too bad. You will grit your teeth and execute your instructions to the best of your ability. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," she replied firmly.

"Good," he said simply, "Alright, speech time over, let's get to work."

"Where do we start?" she asked with no small degree of enthusiasm.

"You probably won't know this," he said, "As we've been keeping under wraps but there are still sections of the city that are… infected for lack of a better term." Her eyes flashed momentarily.

"Are you saying that there are still trace of Hell left in this city and _no one_ thought to say _anything_ to anyone?"

"We don't want to create a panic," he said leaving the office and motioning for her to follow him. "Besides," he added, "We have no idea why it's happening. A building will be fine one day and then the next it'll be swarming with ghosts or tentacles or what have you." He looked at her expectantly.

"Well I won't be able to be sure until I see a scene in person," she said, "But if I had to guess I would say that it's simply due to the walls between dimensions being weakened due to The Fall. Essentially the city is sitting on top of one huge, if temporary, Hellmouth. If I'm right we're gonna be getting all sorts of mystical flotsam and jetsam washing into reality over the next few months, possibly even years depending on how long it would take to close. Like I said," she added pointedly, "I would need to see a scene to be sure and then I can try to contact a specialist."

"Well," he said, "I guess you're gonna get a chance to show me what you've got. Earlier this morning we had a report of an infected building."

**~o~O~o~**

Dawn and Crane were silent as he drove them to the infected building. When he did glance at her he could see her fingers tapping buttons on her phone at a speed that he found somewhat scary. "I never would have pegged you as part of the texting crowd," he said casually.

"I'm not," she replied, "I'm letting a friend – an expert – know that he should meet me at the building. He's got a mojo for feeling out all the mystical vibes from things. He was… He was here when it all went down."

"What was it like?" Crane asked curiously, "I was in D.C. during The Fall and missed it." She looked at him coolly.

"It was _Hell_," she said unemotionally, "It wasn't something that you would be sorry to _miss_. I was breathing fire, hearing screaming, watching your friends _die._ You missed nothing."

"You don't talk a lot," he observed, "You answer any question that I ask but that's it, you don't elaborate, you don't make small talk. You're not really the like other kids your age."

"Was I hired for small talk or was I hired to do a job?" she asked icily.

"Sorry," he said casually, "Just trying to get a feel for you and what you're like."

"_Don't_," she said harshly, "And _kid?_ Don't ever, _ever_ call me that again."

"Yes ma'am," he said somewhat sarcastically, "Look, I'm all for professionalism and, in fact, it makes a welcome change from some of the overly excitable interns we get but at the same time, if we're going to work together we should try to get to know one another." She said nothing. _Not making this easy for me aren't you, kid?_ "Okay, I'll start," he said, "You know my name, Marcus Crane, "I'm married, I have a daughter and I do yoga." Her expression didn't so much as flicker. "_Seriously?_" he asked, "Not even a smile? Come on, work with me here. Anything that you feel like sharing?"

"Fine," she said in exasperation, "My name is Dawn and I have a goddaughter named Alex. Happy now?"

"Yeah I heard about that," he said, glad that she was opening up, no matter how little it was, "Something in the paper a while back. Wasn't she named after the one of the guys that died?" Because he was driving he had no way of knowing that she was struggling and for the most part failing to keep her expression stable.

"I don't want to talk about that," she said coldly.

"Why not?" he asked, "It was one of the main reasons that you were hired."

"I was hired because I have skills and contacts that you _don't_," she said in a low voice, "And if we're going to work together I want to make something crystal clear. We do _not_ discuss The Fall unless it relates to work and only what is relevant." Despite the restrictions of the car's seatbelt she pulled her jacket around her even tighter.

"Alrighty then," he said, the conversation effectively over.

**~o~O~o~**

Dawn's eyes narrowed when the car pulled up to the warehouse. Surrounding the building was a line of police tape as well two police cars parked outside the doors. While the building's exterior was different to the other five or six warehouse along the river something felt _off_ when she looked at it. She wasn't sure if it was due to a malevolent presence lurking within or if it was just her being paranoid. She had already been told that there was something wrong in there and she could now be simply projecting. That was not entirely beyond the realms of possibility. Crane frowned when he saw that there seemed to be a bit of commotion around the entrance. Apparently a civilian was attempting to enter the warehouse and the officers were preventing him. "Oh _Hell_ no," he muttered as he climbed out of the car, "I am not in the mood for – _Jesus Christ!_" What brought the curse to his lips was the fact that "civilian" was in a green skinned, red horned, orange haired demon. While it was now common knowledge that non-human sapients roamed the Earth, most of them still clung to their nocturnal timetable as no-one was entirely used to the new status quo yet.

"Listen, pal," he could hear the demon saying, "I'm here on official business, I –"

"I don't care who you are," Crane said harshly, striding up to him, "Leave _now._" If the demon was intimidated he gave no sign. If anything, he seemed somewhat amused.

"Easy, sugar," he said smoothly, "I'm here to help." He looked behind the agent and saw Dawn, causing his face to light. "Hey there, munchkin," he said fondly, "I'm thinking that this would have been easier if you'd gotten here first." Dawn smiled briefly, a rarity that touched the demon's blue heart. He didn't like how cold and bitter she had been acting lately. Crane's head swivelled around to face Dawn.

"You know him?" he asked in confusion.

"He's the expert I was telling you about on the way here," she said, "Agent Marcus Crane meet Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan."

"I usually go by Lorne," he said pleasantly, stretching out his hand, "And _yes_ I have heard every Lorne Greene joke under the sun." After a moment's hesitation, Crane accepted the offered hand and shook it.

"He's got the best psychic mojo in town," Dawn praised. Lorne chuckled and held up his hands theatrically.

"Ah, the young lady flatters me," he said grandly, "I just have an affinity for reading auras and the like."

**~o~O~o~**

**The Review panel is right down there**

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	3. Just Your Run of the Mill Exorcism

**Author's note: Thanks for the feedback. Also, I am going to be establishing rules in this story with regards to spells and everything related. While Buffy and Angel were a little vague and never went into specifics other than sage and chanting Latin, this story is about the specifics and will be taking inspiration from several other sources (books, TV, religious texts etc.) for inspiration. I like it when there is continuity with things like that.**

**Chapter Three: Just Your Perfectly Run of the Mill Exorcism of a Haunted Warehouse**

"Can you feel that?" Lorne asked as he, Dawn and Crane entered the apparently warehouse.

"Yeah," Dawn replied, her breath immediately fogging, "I can only imagine what it's like for you."

"I'm getting some serious Juju vibes here," the demon complained before turning to the other member of the trio. "How are you holding up, Agent?" he asked cheerily, for some reason enjoying the look of discomfort on his face. He might have been imagining things but he was fairly certain that Dawn wasn't the man's greatest admirer.

"I'm fine," Crane said stiffly in a tone that indicated that he was anything but. Just by standing inside the building, the Agent could tell that there was something… _off_ about it. He felt as though the walls were moving inward whenever he was not looking at them and it created an extremely claustrophobic experience. The green skinned demon, Lorne, was also clearly feeling the effect, his psychic abilities making it even more unpleasant for him than the human. Strangely enough, Dawn seemed entirely unaffected, striding forward as though she were in nothing more than an entirely ordinary warehouse. If not for her earlier comment to Lorne, Crane would not have thought she could feel anything.

"This is probably going to be a little unpleasant," she said carelessly, "More likely than not, you're gonna see and hear things that aren't there so do try to hold onto your marbles while I work out what needs to be done." She strode over to the far side of the building and knelt near the corner, examining what appeared to be some sort of mould. There was something really emotionless, almost cold about the girl. He thought back to a mission years ago in Egypt where he had stumbled across a sex trafficking ring. He remembered the girls' eyes, the anger, the loss, the dull acceptance of what had happened. There was something of that in Dawn's eyes. Something broken. Something had hurt her.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"What was that?" she called out, raising her voice so he could hear her from the other side of the warehouse. It had just occurred to him that he had said his question out loud.

"What are you doing?" he quickly asked, walking over to her.

"Your guys were right when they said that this place was infected," she replied.

"But aside from a vague feeling off unease and some _mould_, I'm not really seeing anything," he said, voicing it like a question. "I was expecting something a bit more… I don't know… _demony._ Is there actually anything here?" She smiled coolly, climbed to her feet and turned to face him.

"It's _everywhere,_" she answered enigmatically, "All around us, right where we're standing. It's all bleeding in from Hell, here and not here at the same time. Lorne, what do you think? You reckon an exorcism will do?" She called out the last part to Lorne.

"Yeah, I think that should clear it all up," he replied, "What do you have in that backpack. Do you have everything that we'll need?" She rummaged through her bag before shaking her head.

"I didn't bring salt," she said before running to the exit and sticking her head out the door. "You lot," she said to the police officers on duty, "I need one of you to go to the convenience store and buy a big container of salt. Really bloody huge. _Now!_" The youngest sprang into action and made off for the store.

"She can be quite intimidating when she wants to be," Lorne proudly said to Crane, "Especially for someone so small."

"So what's with the salt?" Crane asked as Dawn approached them, "How does that help with an exorcism?"

"It doesn't," Dawn replied upon reaching the pair, "It's to stop us getting killed by whatever moved in and set up shop here. You pour the salt so it makes a barrier that a lot of these thing can't cross. Trust me, you usually need it."

"I don't follow," he said, sounding lost.

"During an exorcism," she explained, "All Hell breaks loose, literally. The sense of unease that you're experiencing? That's nothing compared to what can potentially happen. You're just lucky that this appears to be only a new occurrence here. If this building had been left alone for longer the end result wouldn't have been pretty."

"I don't know," said a new voice, "I like to think we've done a pretty good job given the time constraints but, then again, I suppose we often work well under pressure."

"Oh crap," Dawn whispered as they all turned around to face the source of the voice. Her skin paled (even more so than her usual colouring) when she saw who had spoken. After seeing Lorne's demonic appearance, Crane really couldn't see what all the fuss was about this new guy. Really, the only thing of note about him was that he had an eye patch but the way that Dawn was looking at him was as though he were the devil himself. He had fair skin, dark hair, a cocky grin and the same jacket that she was wearing, scuff marks and all.

"Hey, Dawnie," he said, swaggering towards the trio. With every step that he took, the building's lighting began to dim as the shadows started to creep inward, surrounding them.

"Don't call me that," Dawn said evenly. "_And put that away before you hurt yourself,_" she snapped at Crane who had drawn his gun and aimed it at the new arrival. "He's not real," she said, "And even if he was, he's not _him._" The man put his hand over his heart.

"Oh, you cut me to the core… _Dawnie,_" he smirked viciously. She snarled before stalking up to him and waving her hand through his head, causing him to dissipate.

"Asshole," she muttered darkly before looking around and noticing that the shadows had now all but blanketed the entire interior. "Okay," she said, "That could pose a problem. Screw the salt, we'll manage without." She retrieved a small wooden torch with images carved into it from her bag before tossing the pack to Lorne. "Set it up," she said, lighting the torch with a Zippo that Spike had given her for her last birthday. "I'll hold 'em off. You," she directed to Crane, "Stay behind me. Whatever you see or hear isn't real but that doesn't mean it can't hurt you." He could hear shrieking from disembodied voices all around them.

"What's with the torch?" he asked.

"It was hewn from one of the branches of Yggdrasil, the Life Tree," she replied, waving it around, "It should make them think twice before coming near us." While they spoke, Lorne had retrieved five blood red candles from the backpack and lit them before using a piece of chalk to draw a small rudimentary pentagram around them, the edges just touching the wax.

"Nearly there," he said in an almost panicky voice. His psychic radar was going off the charts at the moment. His head was full of bodiless voices screaming. A fierce gale whipped around them all despite the fact that they were indoors. Suddenly three purple tentacles burst through the floor and started to blindly sweep the area for them.

"I've seen enough hentai to know that that's _never_ a good sign," Dawn said in complete, full on deadpan snarker mode. Despite the fear that he was experiencing, Crane found Dawn's behaviour to be fascinating. Before, in the calm and quiets locations of his office and car, she had been timid except for the occasional flashes of anger, but here with a fight for her life against spirits from Hell? She seemed to be in her element, entirely calm, almost amused. He decided that, assuming he lived through the next five minutes that he would do a little digging on her to see just what made her tick. He was positive that there was a hell of a story to her. "_Come on then!_" she cried, brandishing the flaming brand almost like a sword, leaping at the nearest tentacle. Upon contact with the admittedly small flame, the tendril recoiled as though it had been struck with the hand of God.

"I'm ready, Dawn!" Lorne shouted over the wind, "I'm going to need you to help."

"Here," said Dawn to Crane, passing him the flaming torch, "Hold 'em off of us." She then sat down next to Lorne.

"On three," said the demon, "One… Two… _Three!_" As one, they began to chant.

"_Exorcizámos te, ómnis immúnde spíritus, ómnis satánic potéstas, ómnis infernális adversárii, ómnis légio, ómnis congregátio et sécta diabólica, in nómine et virtúte Dómini nóstri Jésu + Chrísti, eradicáre et effugáre a Dei Ecclésia, ab animábus ad imáginem Dei cónditis ac pretióso divíni Ágni sánguine redémptis. + Non últra áudeas, sérpens callidíssime, decípere humánum génus, Dei Ecclésiam pérsequi, ac Dei eléctos excútere et cribráre sicut tríticum. + Ímperat tíbi Deus altíssimus, + cui in mágna tua supérbia te símile habéri ádhuc praesúmis; qui ómnes hóminess vult sálvos fíeri, et ad agnitiónem veritátis venire._"** (1)**

As they chanted, the gale roared with greater force, the screaming grew louder and the tentacles moved faster and more erratically. By the time they were halfway through the chant, they were screaming just to be heard over the unnatural storm. The five candles blazed with an intensity belied by their small size before their light suddenly fill the room for a single second before extinguishing just as quickly. As the light disappeared, so did the wind, the screaming and the demonic, seeking tendrils.

"Well… That was a thing," Dawn said, seriously underselling what had just happened.

"Is that _normal_ with you?" Crane asked incredulously. Lorne and Dawn exchanged a look and both shrugged.

"Pretty much," the demon admitted nonchalantly.

"Just your perfectly run of the mill exorcism of a haunted warehouse," Dawn said casually, "Are you hungry? I could really go for a burger right now. Something that's been fried so many times that my arteries harden just by looking at it for more than a few seconds."

**~o~O~o~**

After a rather eventful morning, the rest of Dawn's orientation day was spent with a rather shell shocked sitting behind his desk, educating her regarding correct procedure for certain different situations. Lorne had left them at the warehouse but not before airily brushing off Dawn's attempt to pay him for his assistance.

"You're family," he said, "If you come a callin', I come a runnin'." She giggled at his declaration. "That's good," he said fondly, "You smiling again. I was starting to think that you had forgotten how. You should do it more often."

Crane eventually decided that he had said enough for the moment and that they could continue the next day. "Are you going to be alright?" Dawn asked, "You still look a little wild around the eyes."

"I'll be fine," he said with a shaky smile, "Just adjusting I suppose. Yesterday, I was so sure of what was going to happen. I miss that certainty.

**~o~O~o~**

While Dawn was only twenty and still not old enough to drink alcohol in the United States, with a fake ID and just the right application of makeup, no-one looked twice at her as she sat at the bar of some nightclub with a name that she couldn't remember. Actually, that wasn't entirely true. With her face and tight jeans, most of the guys (and a few of the ladies) had checked her out at least once or twice.

Eventually, a young man who resembled a football player (larger, muscular, and not too bright) sat down next to her to make a pass. She smiled faintly at him, not really listening to what he had to say.

_Why not?_ She thought to herself. _He's decent looking and __I think I've earned some fun._

**~o~O~o~**

**(1) If you are curious as to what the English translation is, here you go:**

**We cast you out, every unclean spirit, every satanic power, every onslaught of the infernal adversary, every legion, every diabolical group and sect, in the name and by the power of our Lord Jesus + Christ. We command you, begone and fly far from the Church of God, from the souls made by God in His Image and redeemed by the Precious Blood of the Divine Lamb. + No longer dare, cunning serpent, to deceive the human race, to persecute God's Church, to strike God's elect and to sift them as wheat. + For the Most High God commands you, + He to Whom you once proudly presumed yourself equal; He Who wills all men to be saved and come to the knowledge of Truth commands you.**


	4. Destined Perfection

**I know that this is a very short chapter but I didn't think that what happens here would go well with the usual supernatural procedural thing. Also I got to write a conversation that I had originally planned for Heart and Eye.**

**Chapter Four: Destined Perfection**

It was raining outside.

And Dawn could not sleep.

While she had been looking for something fun and meaningless to distract her things really didn't go to plan. As opposed to some kind of release that she was desperately craving she just ended up with a sense of self disgust. In fact, she could barely remember the actual specifics, she just retain a few specific moments. A tongue in her mouth, hot breath on her thigh, her face buried deep into the mattress while he was moving behind her and…

She moved with him, pushing against him, groaning, her gasps choked by the pillow she was biting on and then for ten seconds everything in her mind just went blank and she cried out in release.

And then it was done.

It was raining outside.

She looked over at Richard… or was it Robert? She was fairly certain that his name was not Raymond but she couldn't be entirely sure. He was dead to the world, his chest gently rising and falling while he slept, a pleased smile on his face. Dawn frowned sourly. _He_ had gotten what he wanted while did not. She wanted to pummel that smirk off of his face but instead she allowed the back of her head drop against the pillow as she stared at the ceiling fan go round and round. She glanced at her watch and sighed.

_3:12_

"Ah well," she said to herself, "Up and at 'em and all that." She quietly got dressed and walked out into the rain.

**~o~O~o~**

It was now nearing four o'clock in the morning as Dawn stood outside the front door of the house, the rain absolutely saturating her. She was chilled to the bone but she just couldn't find it in herself to care. She felt like something inside her was broken. She licked her lips and idly noticed that some of the raindrops tasted like salt.

Suddenly the front door opened to reveal Fred. Dawn didn't say anything, she didn't even move. She just continued to stand in the rain. Fred walked out into the storm and pulled the younger girl into a hug. The second that she was pressed against her, Dawn suddenly broke down sobbing. Fred didn't ask where she had been. She didn't have to. With her senses now enhanced by the Illyria virus she could smell the sweat of Ryan or Robbie (or whatever his name actually was) all over her.

"What are you still doing up?" Dawn mumbled into Fred's left shoulder.

"Lorne mentioned what happened earlier," Fred answered, "He also said that one of the ghost took Xander's form. I wanted to make sure that you were okay but your phone was switched off."

"Sorry," Dawn said quietly, "I just… I'm sorry." She gripped onto the older woman tightly.

"Come inside," Fred said kindly, "You'll catch a cold out here." She took her hand and led her to the bathroom before grabbing a towel and using it to gently drying Dawn's hair. "You have an awful lot of hair," she said conversationally, "I don't know how you manage it." Despite her tears, Dawn giggled for a second.

"Yeah, I was thinking of getting it cut." Fred passed her the towel and let her finish drying herself.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I just wanted to forget about him," Dawn said, looking downwards, "I know that we were never together… _ever_ but…"

"You were still in love with him," she finished not unkindly. Dawn nodded, still not making eye contact.

"Yeah," she mumbled, "I went to a club and this guy sat next to me started making a move and… I just went along with it. One thing led to another and we were back at his place. I… I let him do whatever he wanted and just for a bit I could forget about everything."

"We've all been there," Fred said sympathetically.

She suddenly cocked her head as though in deep concentration and then before she could stop herself she threw her head back and laughed. "I'm sorry," she said, still laughing, wiping a tear from her eye. Despite everything, Dawn had to chuckle as well.

"What?" she demanded incredulously, grinning.

"I just got this huge sense of déjà vu," she answered, "I seem to remember having the exact same conversation with Xander, ages back." Dawn tilted her head curiously.

"What was he like?" she asked, "I mean, you know, when he was working with you guys at Wolfram and Hart?"

"He was sad," Fred replied, "He missed you guys. But around the… oh, what was it…? The first or… possibly the second day that he started working with us he smelled like he was wearing ladies perfume. The only woman I knew of who wore that particular brand was none other than Miss Harmony Kendall, the resident vampire secretary without a soul. You should have seen his face when I ever oh so casually brought it up."

"That must have been awkward."

"You have _no_ idea." Fred grinned wickedly. "He looked like I had walloped him over the head with a brick or something. Did the whole spluttering denial thing which last for all of five seconds before folding."

"Sounds like him. He was usually a _terrible_ liar." They were silent as Dawn stripped off her wet clothes and threw them into the wash basket.

"Are you going to be okay?" Fred asked. Dawn turned to face her, both of them close enough with each other to not care about the younger girl's nudity.

"I hope so," Dawn said, the uncertainty of the statement a huge admission for her. Normally she would never be that open. "Next time… I don't know… I'll make sure that I'm not using it to forget something. It'll happen because I want it to happen."

"_Next time?_" Fred enquired without judgement. Dawn shrugged.

"I don't think I'm the settle down and get married kind of girl," she said, a little sadly, "Not anymore. Even if _why_ I did what I did was wrong, it still felt good. The whole girlfriend thing isn't really something I think I could do anyway." Fred wrapped her arm around Dawn's shoulders.

"Because you and Xander never…" Dawn nodded. Fred was silent for a few seconds. She had a thought and wanted to make sure that she had the right words to voice it. "Did you know that I don't believe in soul mates?" she said. Dawn looked at her in confusion.

"You and Wesley…?" she asked, her voice trailing off as she wondered where Fred was going with this.

"I love Wesley," Fred said seriously, "More than my own life. That being said, once upon a time I was in love with Gunn. I don't like this idea of destined perfection or that there is one chosen person for us out there. It's too easy. If we have a chosen mate all prepared for us why should we value it? What I have with Wesley is precious _because_ we had to work for it. He used to be colder and darker, I used to be insane and crushing on Angel. And then the world nearly ended, and then it happened again, and then he thought that he had killed his Dad, I was thinking of dating a co-worker and I nearly died and… Well, you get the idea. There were so many times when this nearly didn't happen. It happened, not because it was chosen to happen but because we wanted it to happen, because we _made_ it happen."

"What's your point?" Dawn asked curiously.

"Xander wasn't your soulmate," Fred said bluntly, "But he was someone that you loved very much. You can love, we both know that. So if you want to just have something casual, go for it, you're a very pretty girl and I'm sure that you'll have no problem finding interested guys and girls –"

"_Girls?!_" Fred grinned mischievously.

"Alex's first birthday at Disneyland," she said, "I definitely saw you checking out Belle." Dawn blushed furiously. "Anyway," Fred continued, "The point is that, if you ever change your mind, I do think that you could love again. You have a big heart Dawn. I see that every time you play with Alex." She got up. "Now you should probably have a hot shower and get some sleep. I'll make sure that you get to work on time."

"Fred?" Dawn called out before she could leave. Fred turned to face her. "Thanks," she said somewhat awkwardly. "For… you know… waiting up for me. I know that I haven't known you as long as Lorne and Gunn and the others but… You're my best friend and I love you… _platonically_ obviously." Fred smiled warmly.

"I love you to." She then kissed her on the top of her head and left.

**Please Review.**


	5. Sacred Books

**Anyone who picks up on the Tim Minchin reference is awesome. Anyone who does not is also awesome for reading this.**

**Chapter Five: Sacred Books**

"You alright?" Dawn didn't say anything. Crane snapped his fingers in front of her face as they walked down the halls of the CIA Los Angeles headquarters. "Hey, kid, are you in there?"

"Sorry," Dawn replied, snapping out of her trance, "Late night. What about you? How are you holding up after yesterday?"

"I'm starting to understand why The Fall really was as big a thing as everyone says" he said, "If that was just a normal exorcism…" His voice trailed off as he thought of the implications of his statement.

"It was pretty bad," she finished for him before shaking her head slightly. "Anyway," she continued obviously wanting to change the subject, "Here, I got you some reading material." She reached into her bag and handed him an ancient looking leather bound book.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It contains several common exorcism incantations as well as some background information on the more… _mainstream_ demonic species," she answered, "It belonged to a mate of mine, a rather stuffy Englishman with an unhealthy obsession with tea and old time rock and roll, but he gave it to me when I decided to go into the business for myself. I've got a few other things, books and knick knacks that might be of help. If I find anything I'll let you know."

"Thanks," he said, quite pleased with the gift since he had always had an affinity for old books, "I'll be very careful with it."

"Don't worry about it," she said, somewhat carelessly, "I've been making digital backups of all my old texts, scrolls and books. I've also printed new hard copies of most of the important ones so they can't get hacked, destroyed or otherwise digitally vandalised."

"But this book looks hundreds of years old," Crane said incredulously, wondering how she could be so indifferent.

"I'm a practical girl," she said, shrugging, "It's the _information_ that's valuable, _not_ the pages the information is printed on. And now the information has been safely preserved."

"But think of all of the things that this book has been through," he protested.

"That's actually something that bugs me a bit to be honest," she said, pausing for a moment while she picked out her words. "It is a book," she said, "What makes it valuable is the information. Which is why I've never understood the idea behind the burnings of religious texts. If I got a copy of the Quran and burned it, all that I would accomplish is setting off the smoke alarm. Thanks to mass printing and the internet, the Quran, the Bible, the Torah, the stories of the Greek Gods and all sorts of other holy texts are safe. But because of all the importance that people place on the physical books rather than the ideas, you get cases like… Oh… I know, like a few months ago you might have heard that there was this stupid moron who said that he was going to gather as many copies of the Quran that he could and burn them in front of a camera. And then there were these other stupid morons who said that they would commit acts of violence if the first stupid moron went through with his stupid moronic scheme. And then there was a third group of _stupid bloody morons_ who decided to give the first two stupid morons a platform for their stupid moronic ideas by writing about them in their newspaper. What do we get out of this aside from a surplus of stupid idiocy? This concept that _things_ can be holy. I don't know, I just reckon that only bad things can happen as a result of that line of thinking."

"You've certainly put in a lot more thought into this than I have," he said before frowning. "Are you sure that you're alright?"

"_Yes!_" she said with visible irritation, "I just had a late night."

"Okay, okay," he said, quickly dropping the subject, "That's cool."

"So what's the plan for today?" she asked, "I'm assuming that there is not another haunted warehouse out there."

"Sadly no," he said, "You remember Agent Rigby, right?"

"She was the woman who recruited me," she replied, "Kind of stern looking, really."

"That's the one," he said, nodding, "Did she mention anything about you receiving training?"

"Yeah," she said, "She mentioned that I would get taught self-defence or something like that. Why?"

"She's agreed to be your trainer," he said, "Rigby is one of the best hand to hand specialists in the agency. I have a feeling that you're gonna get on… or possibly not. She can be a little _grr._" He held up his hands as though they were claws. Dawn looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Tell me something, Crane," she said casually, "Are you good at what you do?"

"I manage," he said, shrugging.

"Good," she responded, "I'd hate to hear that you had lost your job and were trying to make ends meet as an actor."

**~o~O~o~**

Agent Emma Rigby was a tall imposing looking blonde woman. In some ways she reminded Dawn of Buffy, this woman looked like she could tear people apart with nothing other than her hands. However, Buffy only looked like that because everyone now knew that she was the Slayer, this woman looked like that because she had clearly put in the work, training and exercise to get there.

Crane had led Dawn to the training room before leaving her with the agent, saying that he had several errands to run.

Rigby was a tall blonde woman with grey, penetrating eyes. Dawn didn't like the way that she was looking at her. It felt like she was being read. Still, she was determined to not be the first woman to break her silence. Rigby circled the younger woman in a way not wholly dissimilar to that of a predator. If Dawn hadn't been fighting monsters since she was sixteen, she might have even been a little nervous. Instead of showing fear, she simply smiled politely. To her surprise, Rigby's expression softened and she chuckled.

"I think that you and I are going to get on just fine, kid," she said, smirking. While in the past Dawn had reacted badly to the description "kid" when Rigby said called her that it didn't sound patronising, if anything if felt like acceptance. Rigby hadn't been ordered to train her. Rigby _wanted_ to be the one who trained her. "I've heard a lot about you, Miss Summers," she said, "And I was glad when you accepted my offer. I think that you're going to be a real asset to the agency."

"I'll do my best," Dawn promised, wanting to impress this woman, "So how will this work? What exactly do you want to teach me?"

"That depends on you," she replied, "Given your… _background_ for lack of a better term, I would assume that you would have picked up some skills of your own. What do you know?"

"I'm assuming that I have a file somewhere," Dawn replied, "Couldn't you just get what you need there?"

"Yes but I'd rather hear it from you. I want to know what you consider yourself to be good at." Dawn shrugged.

"Um, I've been training with my sister since I was sixteen," she answered, "How to throw a punch, kicking, using a sword and bow –"

"Really?" Rigby interrupted incredulously. Dawn shrugged again.

"New weapons aren't always as effective as the classics when it comes to taking down baddies of the supernatural variety."

"Fair enough," Rigby conceded, "What else?"

"I've been doing a bit of aikido for the past two years," she continued, "I'm not really big enough to pull off the punches and kicks from karate or taekwondo but aikido means that I can make the other person do all of the hard work for me. I kind of like the idea of that."

"You won't be having problems with punching and kicking when I'm done," Rigby said confidently, "I plan to teach you a combination of Krav Maga, judo and a little bit of boxing. I am _not_ going to go easy on you but if even half of what I've heard about you is true, I don't think that I'll have to."

**~o~O~o~**

_**Three weeks later**_

"Now there have been many different interpretations on just what kind of relationship Benedick and Beatrice had before the start of the play. Beatrice herself indicates strongly that indicates that he had once pursued her before breaking things off. Was this a sexual relationship, a genuine courtship or a passing fancy…? Given all of the hullaballoo about Hero's virginity however, I do seriously doubt the first possibility." Upon seeing the man in the suit at the back of the lecture hall, Wesley broke off his speech. "That's all I have for today, ladies and gentlemen," he said to the assembled college students, "And remember that I will be expecting your essays on the gender politics in the play on my desk by four p.m. Friday afternoon. Class dismissed." The man pushed his way through the throng of students and approached Wesley at the podium.

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce?" the man asked, stretching out his hand.

"It's Pryce-_Burkle_ now," Wesley said, accepting the offered hand and shaking, "We had our names hyphenated. So what brings the CIA to my humble lecture hall?" Crane didn't ask how he knew who he worked for. He knew the man's background and guessed that he simply had a talent for inferring things about a person.

"I'm Marcus Crane," the man introduced himself. Going by his expression it was clear that Wesley recognised his name.

"You're Dawn's T.O. right?"

"That's right," Crane replied, "I'm actually here about her."

"Is she okay?" Wesley asked, his face immediately displaying concern.

"She's fine," Crane quickly assured him, "It's nothing like that. I'm just doing another background check. You know, asking close friends and family a few questions. Just standard stuff." That got Wesley on guard but he kept his face passive.

"What do you want to know?"

"This is more in the nature of a personality assessment," Crane explained.

"Couldn't you just ask her herself?"

"She has been less than forthcoming when asked," Crane admitted, "There are things that I need to know – that the _Agency_ needs to know about her." Wesley leant against the podium and crossed his arms.

"What do you want to know?"

"How long have you knows Dawn?" Crane asked.

"I've known _of _her for six years but we've really only been close for about the last two or three," Wesley answered.

"How would you describe the nature of your relationship?"

"She's family," Wesley immediately replied, "She's the godmother to my daughter, the best friend to my wife and I consider her a close friends myself."

"And what was the nature of her relationship to an Alexander Lavelle Harris?" Wesley made no reply. He simply glared at the agent.

"That is in _no_ way relevant to her working for you and your agency," he snapped angrily. Crane held the former Watcher's gaze calmly.

"I'll be the judge of that," he said simply, "She constantly carries around a battered old jacket that I think was his like it's a bloody security blanket and momentarily froze when she saw a projected image of him during a dangerous, _hostile_ situation. So _yes_, I do think that's a relevant question."

"He was a friend of hers," Wesley said tersely, "A friend of ours, me, Fred… _all of us_ and he died. That's all there is to it."

"I seriously doubt that," Crane replied, "Were they romantically involved?"

"_No_," Wesley said immediately, "He was seeing someone else and then mourned her after she died. He and Dawn were _never_ a thing."

"But she didn't like it that way, didn't she?" Crane pressed, "She was in love with him." It was at this moment that Wesley had enough.

"What is this about?" he growled, "This isn't some background test. Why are you asking these questions?"

"Dawn has a good reputation," Crane said, "The LAPD officers that she consulted for had nothing but good things to say about her but this is the _CIA_. If she's carrying around a whole bunch of angst, I need to know yesterday so I can nip it in the bud before it becomes an issue later on. Look, I like the girl and I reckon she has it in her to be something great in the agency, she shows up on time, her work is impeccable and she's forgotten more about all of this demon stuff than I'll ever know. That's the only reason I'm giving her this much leeway otherwise she'd have already washed out. That being said, I do need to find a way to make sure that she gets through this or I won't be able to keep cutting her slack. So I am asking you as her friend, help me to help her. Who was Alexander Harris? I don't want what I could pull from his file because I've already done that. I want to know who he was as a person."

**~o~O~o~**

Dawn was feeling bruises in places she didn't even know that she had. Rigby hadn't lied about not holding back. While Dawn was appreciative of the lack of pandering, she would have appreciated it more if she could sit down without her butt hurting.

She made her way to the living room and flopped onto the couch, enjoying the novelty of making it home before five in the afternoon. Since she had started work as a consultant she had been working increasingly late hours. Fred and Wesley would both be coming home from their respective jobs she supposed and Tobias **(See the bottom for an explanation about who he is if you have not read Heart and Eye)** was probably out with Alex at the park or something like that. She reached for the remote and idly flicked through the channels. Once again, that jackass Samuel Taylor was spouting his hate speech.

"_Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour."_ The man's sanctimonious piety was positively nauseating.

Thankfully the sound of a car approaching the driveway interrupted the moron on the television and she went out to meet Wesley as he pulled into the garage.

"Hey, Wes," she said cheerfully, "How're you doing?" He smiled tightly as though he was trying to hide something unpleasant.

"We need to talk, Dawn," he said seriously.

**~o~O~o~**

**(1) Tobias Crane was a very tall immortal man related to Marcus Hamilton (servant of the Senior Partners of Wolfram and Hart) who Fred had fought during **_**Heart and Eye**_**. After defeating him, she spared his life he felt that he owed her. Upon finding out that she was pregnant he immediately rushed to her side to offer his assistance. He now acts as a butler/nanny and is always dressed in the finest of suits.**

**Please review and I'll see you next time.**


	6. Old Gives Way to New

**Sorry about the **_**MAJOR**_** gap between updates. I had the hugest case of writer's block and combined with an apparent lack of interest in the story displayed by the readers I decided to play around with some other story ideas but I think that I'm up to giving this story another chance. Let me know what you think.**

**Also, upon re-reading some of the previous chapters, I have decided to add a disclaimer**

**DISCLAIMER: **_This is a work of fiction and any correct facts regarding the operations of the CIA, FBI or any other law enforcement agency are purely accidental._

**Chapter Six: Old Gives Way to New**

_**Five months later**_

"Battlefield Los Angeles," Marcus read aloud, picking up the hardback from the best seller display, "A firsthand recollection of the events of The Fall from the perspective of a Slayer by Kennedy Limon." He flicked to the back until he found the index. "You're mentioned about fifteen times here. Have you read it yet?"

"I _lived_ it," Dawn said quickly, "I don't need to read it to know what happens unless Kennedy decides to try her hand at a shocking swerve and make it turn out to have all been a dream… It doesn't turn out to have all been a dream, does it?" Marcus skipped to the end.

"No," he answered before returning the book to its stand, "It all still happened."

"Shame," she murmured disinterestedly as they continued to walk through the cleared out mall, "That would have been awfully convenient. Anyway, don't we have a job to do? What's the case?"

"An Iranian national was found dead in the centre," he explained, "His name is Abdul Hassan, he was twenty-seven and has been on various department watch lists for the past decade due to potential links with Al-Qaeda and about half a dozen other extremist groups."

"So why do we care that he's dead?" Dawn asked coldly, shrugging. "Unless we're going to pop open the champagne and celebrate… not that I would ever drink champagne because I'm not yet twenty-one and that would be illegal."

"I'm going to ignore that last part," Marcus remarked dryly.

"That's probably for the best," she agreed.

"We care because we believe that Hassan was in Los Angeles to sell a bomb of some kind. We're still unclear as to who the buyer was."

"So what does this have to do with me?" Dawn asked, making sure to keep her voice respectful. "After all, I'm paid to deal with cases of a more… _supernatural_ flavour."

"Don't worry," he replied, "I don't think that your talents will be going to waste here. Before coming stateside he spent three days in India, travelling all around the country." Dawn smirked at the idea of an extreme fundamentalist Muslim travelling through a country where the predominant religion was Hinduism.

"What was he doing there?" she asked.

"We're not entirely sure," he said, frowning slightly, "The intercepted communications between him and his buyer that we received had them talking about something called 'Shiva's Trident.' Does that mean anything to you?" She shrugged.

"Shiva is one of the deities of Hinduism," she answered, "He's often depicted with a trident as his weapon."

"Well that sounds like something that's up your alley. Anyway, Shiva is the Hindi equivalent of Satan, right?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Shiva is actually the supreme deity of Hinduism actually," she replied, smirking at his rather incorrect description of the God, "He is, however, also considered to be the god of destruction, often referred to as 'The Destroyer'." He frowned.

"Isn't that pretty much the same thing?" he asked in confusion.

"Not exactly," she said, pausing while she tried to find the right words, "You see they… Sometimes things need to be brought down and torn away to make way for the new… Dinosaurs were brought down to make way for us, for human beings, horses gave way to cars, swords to guns… Even where we're standing right here, right now. None of this," she spun around, gesturing at the mall that they were standing in, "None of this was here until some friar named Junipero Serra decided to set up shop and now it's the second largest city in the country. Old gives way to new. In addition to 'The Destroyer' his other nom de guerre is 'The Transformer.' I think that we're here."

Just ahead of them the police had taped off a section of the mall leading to the food court. Marcus and Dawn ducked under the tape and approached the three uniformed officers standing around the body or rather what was left of it.

"Are you okay with this?" Marcus asked, having forgotten that as a young girl she might not be used to such violence. Less than a nanosecond later he realised the folly of such a question. Only moments ago they had been discussing her involvement in The Fall. She glared at him. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Whatever," she replied, "What do you think he was doing in the food court? Was there any…?" Her voice trailed off.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head, "I was going to ask if any security cameras had picked something up but if they had I think that you probably would have mentioned that."

"Probably," he agreed, "No, when the LAPD requested the footage it turned out that due to "technical glitches" all recordings had been lost." She scoffed.

"Even we're not that unlucky," she said coolly.

"Obviously." They then were silent as they diverted their attentions to remains of Abdul Hassan.

It was not a pretty picture.

Both of his feet were missing as was his left eye, there was evidence of burns on his wrists and multiple seemingly non-fatal puncture wounds to the torso and knees.

"What killed him?" Dawn asked the coroner who was kneeling next to the body. She looked up at her.

"I won't know for sure until I get him on the slab but right now I think that he was electrocuted to death," she hypothesised. "Look here," she said, pointing to the holes in the body's knees, "See the burns around the wounds? I think that something metal was shoved here and that an electric current was applied to it and that was what eventually killed him."

Marcus asked, "So were the other wounds…?"

"Post-mortem?" the coroner interrupted, "No, I don't think so. This man was tortured before he died."

Dawn rummaged through the pockets of her oversized jacket and pulled out what appeared to be a pair of gaudy, showgirl sunglasses.

"Don't ask me how I know this but I just _know_ that that is a gift from that green guy Lorne," Marcus said while rubbing his temple.

"Actually yes they are," Dawn said, putting the glasses on, not caring about how they made her look.

"I'm assuming that you're not wearing those for cosmetic reasons," he said.

"You assume correctly," she answered, "They have a very complicated name but basically they show a coloured aura around something if it has recently been around something magical or otherworldly. Blue for demons, red for witchcraft, green for ghosts and spirits, gold for… Oh that's not good, that's extremely, very bad. Get bad to the power of ten and then just add a whole lot more bad and you'll have a reasonable idea of just how bad things are right now."

"What's wrong?" he asked, the concern clearly evident in his tone of voice.

"Gold is for the presence of something godlike," she explained, "And right now this guy is so gold he act as currency. Are you sure that they were talking about Shiva's Trident in those communication?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, "What's so special about the trident? Anyway, what's the big deal? You said that he was one of the good guys."

"I just said that he wasn't Satan or evil," she rebuffed, "I said nothing about him being a good guy."

**~o~O~o~**

_**London**_

_Ring! Ring! Ring!_

Giles looked down in surprise when he saw the caller ID. Dawn hadn't called him or quite frankly anyone in Britain for quite some time. "Hello, Dawn," he said, answering the phone, "How are you?"

"_This isn't a social call, unfortunately,_" she replied brusquely, "_I need to know if you have any Watcher contacts in India._"

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"_I can't say too much at the moment,_" she said apologetically, "_But I need to know, is Shiva's Trident real? I mean, does it actually exist and, if so, where would it be? Also, what kind of mojo can it work?_"

"When do you need this by?" he asked.

"_Yesterday,_" came the response.

"Dawn," he said seriously, "Are you sure that everything is alright?"

"_Just get me the information, please._"

**~o~O~o~**

"Are you okay?" Dawn pocketed her phone.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied to Marcus' question, "I just don't like not telling him."

"You can't," he said firmly, "Anything regarding a possible threat to national security is―"

"I _know_ that," she interrupted him in a firm tone of voice, "I'm just saying that I don't like it. It _is_ part of the job, I do know that."

"Did he say how long it would take for him to find something for us?" he asked.

"He'll call me when he has something," she replied, "Until then, I'm going to be at home. Wesley, one of the people that I live with, he might have some books that can help me while I wait for the call. What are you going to do in the meantime?"

"First I'll take everything that the LAPD have here and then I'll head back to the office, that's where I'll be if you need me," he answered, "I'm going to see if I can find out if Hassan had any partners and who the buyer was. Keep me updated on your progress."

**~o~O~o~**

Dawn burst through the door of the house and headed straight for Wesley's study and tried to open the door. Naturally it was locked so she produced a long thin wire and two seconds later, the door swung inward. She then made an immediate beeline for the bookshelf and pulled off the first book relating to Hindi deities. "Shiva, Shiva, Shiva," she muttered under her breath as she flicked through the dusty tome. "There we are." After reading the first line she had to sarcastically remark, "You were certainly an enlightened man for your time."

The section on Shiva was an extract from the journal of a Watcher from the late 1800s by the name of Walter Banks during an expedition to India.

_**The Diary of Walter Banks – The Second of June, 1883**_

_While I had first railed against my maters sending me to what I had assumed would nothing more than a scorching cesspool of godless heathens, I am now only beginning to __realise__ the hubris of such thoughts._

_My masters were right about the threat that Shiva's Trident represents, just mentioning it causes fear to materialize in the otherwise vacant, uncomprehending faces of the local magicians, a term that I use lightly to describe their feeble efforts at uncovering the workings of God's creation._

_From what I have uncovered, the Trident is some sort of ancient weapon of unparalleled destructive power, although how this power is released or in what form is still yet to be determined._

_While my studies have been inconclusive I am now of the opinion that the trident may have been used back in time of antiquity which resulted in the city of Dwaraka being engulfed by the ocean._

_If this was indeed the result of the Trident's power it is essential that it is recovered and placed within the custody of the Council. No-one else can be trusted with such a device._

_**The Diary of Walter Banks – The Fifth of July, 1883**_

_Disaster has struck. I had tracked the Trident to a shrine dedicated to Shiva in the wilderness leagues away from what passes for civilisation in these parts. As it transpired, I am not the only man on the sub-continent with an interest in obtaining it. Upon arriving, my expedition team was set upon and only I and two others survived. Our attackers consisted of both white men and Indians and they were all on the face tattooed with some symbol of the like I had never seen before._

_When they left we searched the shrine but it was clear that the Trident was gone._

_We are now in pursuit, following them south. Their ultimate destination appears to be in the vicinity of Indonesia._

_I am sending this journal back to England along with a request that help is sent. If the trident truly has the power to sink entire cities then it is essential that it is recovered._

_If it is not, only the Almighty can spare us from its power._

After the copy of the two journal entries finished there was a note stating that Walter Banks had been killed just over a month later on the 26th of August, 1883.

Dawn paled when she saw the cause of death.

"Jesus Christ," she breathed in horror before grabbing her phone and practically punching the numbers.

"_It's Marcus,_" came the response, "_What have you found?_" As quickly as she could, she reiterated everything that she had just read. "_I don't get it,_" Marcus said, _"What happened on the 26__th__ of August?_"

"Krakatoa erupted," Dawn answered, her throat so dry that the words almost stuck in her throat.

**~o~O~o~**

**I was originally going to have Dawn kick in Wesley's study door to illustrate the urgency of the situation but I realized that she would never do that to the property of someone that she sees as family.**

**Please review if you are enjoying the story and want it to keep going.**


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